Cave-in
by Sparks-a-Flame
Summary: Something goes wrong, and the pyro and the good doc find themselves in a perilous situation.


AN: This has been bouncing around my brain for a while. I own nothing. Vinny and Sweet are my favorite pairing, and I've been super angry/sad that there's not a whole lot of fic out there about them.

Darkness. All around him. So thick and gut-wrenchingly black that he couldn't even see his hand, which he knew was only inches away from his face. He could feel his breath hot on his palm, coming quicker and more panicky with each passing second. His heart beat loud in his ears, the only thing louder was the roaring of the blood in his veins. Something landed on his arm, and for a moment, panic blinded him and his heart stopped. Then the thing gently squeezed, and he felt the roughness of work gloves and his mind snapped back to who he was.

"Sweet?" a thickly accented, familiar voice asked above him, sounding thicker than normal. The realization and relief that he wasn't alone hit him like a truck, and he took a second to gather himself before he answered.

"Vinny," he replied. Nothing seemed to be broken. Bruised for sure and probably covered in scratches, but nothing too serious. He tried to move, then found that he didn't have a whole lot of room to work with.

"Yeah," his friend said, voice raspy and hints of something that sounded like pain flecking his tone.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll live. Glad to have you back with me, though. Sounded like you were having a panic attack."

"Me and tight places do not get along. What happened? I remember the charge went off and suddenly the ground tried to eat us?"

Silence, save for Vinny's shallow breathing.

"Vinny?"

Silence.

"Vinny?!" A harsh cough was his only answer.

"I'm here," Vinny finally answered, a groan torn against his will from his throat.

"You are not ok," Sweet said sternly. "Do you have your matches?"

"I think so," his friend is slow to answer. "Hold on."

Silence, this time broken with the soft rustle of cloth and the scrape of metal on stone above him as Vinny wriggled to find his matches. A groan, and heavy panting, then the distinct sound of a match lighting, and suddenly, a small flame sparked in the darkness. Sweet blinked rapidly in the new light, then found his friend. About four feet above him on a small ledge, Vinny lay pinned by a boulder.

"Hey," the demolitionist said, a small smile making his bushy mustache twitch. In the dim light, Sweet could see blood streaking across his pale face, and he had made no move to use the other side of his body. Sweet looked around the dim confines of his confinement, and realized, with a little shimmying, he could make it up to his friend. Sweet climbed carefully to his feet, mindful of his large frame in the cramped passage, and immediately felt something give in his left leg. Ignoring it for the time being, he braced himself against the ledge behind him, the one Vinny was laying on, and pushed himself up to sit beside his friend.

"Here," Vinny whispered and pushed the matches to him. Sweet lit another one and got a better look at his friend. The boulder pinning the pyromaniac was about the size of a steamer trunk and was square between Vinny's thin shoulders. Blood flowed from a gash just in his hairline above his right eye and trickled from the left side of his mustache to make the puddle already around him larger.

"You look awful," Sweet murmured, already tearing his dusty khaki shirt into strips for bandages. He pressed the first to the head wound and bound it in place with the second, Vinny leaning into his touch.

"You've made much worse better," he replied, drowsy.

"I need you to stay awake, Vinny," Sweet said. He took a deep breath and began feeling down his left leg, expert fingers searching for the source of the fire in his calf. He pressed down gently on the spot he felt it coming from and grit his teeth. Fracturing his fibula was always better than fracturing his Tibia.

Silence.

"Vinny."

Silence.

"Vinny?"

Silence.

"Vinny!" His hands went one to Vinny's neck, the other to the space between the edge of his plate armor and the boulder. His pulse was weak, and the demolitionist was only managing small breaths. In the small confines of their earth prison, there was nothing Sweet could do except pray. Or so he thought. Dirt cascaded down on him was the only warning he got before light blinded him and he heard a familiar chuckle.

"Mole, I have never been more happy to see you than I am right now," Sweet said as he spat dirt out of his mouth. "We need to get Vinny free." Mole nodded, dug a hole beneath their ledge, then came back up and rested a dirty palm against the boulder. He flipped out his folding pickaxes and set to work. Within moments, he had the dirt and gravel cleared away and gingerly wrapped his arms around the only impediment to Vinny's freedom.

"I lift, you pull him out," Mole said. Sweet nodded and Mole raised the whole boulder about an inch above Vinny's still form. Sweet apologized mentally to his friend even as his hands grabbed his thin shoulders and pulled. A high pitched keening came from his friend before the pain became to much and he fell limp in Sweet's hold.

"I've got you, Vinny. I've got you," Sweet murmured as he tied his friend to the ropes that had followed Mole down the hole. He splinted his calf hurriedly then grabbed onto the other rope and allowed himself to be pulled up to the world of light and wind.

End


End file.
